Desperation Chapter 1
by Temper28
Summary: WARNING SPOILERS! Sherlock finds himself back on Bakers street and is puzzled by a visit from two mysterious men. We're just getting started


Sherlock Fan fic

Chapter one

"I was so put down. When I heard, you know. When the news paper said you'd died. Of course, as you have said many times before that the death of others, even those close to you doesn't matter if you cannot save them. I believe you phrased it something like 'Go and cry on the foot of other peoples beds and see what good it does them.' Why Sherlock, why are you so… Robotic? So very emotionless. But lets see how you fair against the forces I'll put you through, shall we?"

A cold pale woman stepped out onto Bakers street, stopping at the door on the center of the block that read '221B'. Just as cold as the woman, so was London. A cold and unforgiving night, filled with what she believed to be the joys of murder.

A small snicker escaped from John Watson's mouth, almost to mock at him.

"John, be silent, you know how noises get me distracted on cases like these."

"Right, sorry Sherlock, just tell me this. I was gone for ten minutes only to hear a loud bang, run back up to the flat to see two dead men on the floor and you hanging upside-down on a chair. Please do explain."

John gradually stepped into the room. He scurried his way through and sat down on the chair adjacent to Sherlock.

"Ok so, what the HELL, happened here?"

He said nothing, he just sat there, silent, as usual, he had his hands in a praying position softly against his peach pale lips. He stirred finally and sat upright on his chair.

"I can't figure it out Watson. Two weeks ago, I was dead… No one knew, I didn't land a newspaper article because I was a fraud, I was literally forgotten to those who believed that I had lied, which was most everyone with a good case. No one who's worth my attention knows about me, and now two hit-men come knocking on my door."

"So? Angry fan? Lose ends? Maybe revenge for Moriarty? One of his Hit-man assassins got mad?"

"No… Fans can't go so far with something like this, they were trained, highly, most likely somewhere from Asia, deep in the forests. I can tell by the amount of scars and physical appearance that they came from a tropical area. Tan, some parts sunburned, I'd say only 4 or 5 days since they got plucked out of their cozy little jungle, they still have dirt under their fingernails, and their feet are still blistered from no shoes or tight ones. If I was a 'lose end' then it must have been a long vendetta or, they'd have to been stalking you for weeks to find out that I'm alive. Even if they were stalking you, they would've given up. I've been clear the whole time. I don't think anyone would avenge Moriarty; all of his associates were hired guns. They wouldn't give a damn unless it was an unmade payment, which isn't what Moriarty would risk."

"So who then, who would know your alive?" Watson questioned.

"Well that's what we're going to find out now isn't it?" Sherlock concluded. He got up and grabbed his coat, hat and Scarf. He fastened his scarf to his neck securely, pulled his jacket around his arms and tightly put the hat over top his head. He harrumphed.

"Why John? Why do I have to wear this blasted hat? And why this hat? Why can't it be any other hat?" he grumbled.

"Because the entire city of London hates the fraud Sherlock Holmes, Detective who lied to everyone. And if you don't want to get caught and beaten to a pulp, you'll wear the hat."

Half way through he heard another grumble and a word or two under his breath.

"What was that?" Watson turned and asked.

"Oh nothing, Lets go!" Sherlock said stomping ahead of Watson.

Watson had a smirk of satisfaction look on his face as he followed behind the grumbley detective.

"Wait, where are we going?" Watson finally asked stopping in his tracks behind Sherlock, insisting he not take another step towards the door.

"Well Watson, I guess I learned something more from a lot of the cases we worked on. I learned from the Hound of Baskerville that you should face old demons, even though in the end it wasn't exactly old demons that had haunted him though wholeheartedly it was. I am not going to hide forever Watson. It's time I face my old demons. I'm going to see Lestrade."


End file.
